


Champagne

by lurkingspecter (orphan_account)



Category: Spider-Man (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Frottage, M/M, a smidge of angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-17 09:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18962872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lurkingspecter
Summary: At the Oscorp launch party Norman and Otto drink a little too much.





	Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> another one for the 100 fandoms challenge
> 
> prompt: bottle

Oscorp’s launch party had been an amazing success. The journalists had been impressed by their demonstrations, several big-name donors had shown up, and not a single thing, Otto was proud to announce, had caught on fire.

It was no wonder, then, that in their excitement they had let the afterparty drag on a bit too long, until they had ended up in one of the new unfurnished labs with a bottle of champagne on the counter between them.

Otto was rambling about something while Norman nodded along, chin in hand, adding the occasional “mhm” or “ah.” Norman hadn’t seen him like this since the few times he had managed to drag Otto to house parties in college. He could still picture those moments clearly: Otto, gesticulating with a solo cup, face flushed with excitement, while the engineering undergrads clustered around him, heads ducked to try to catch what he was saying over the din. Sometimes they would even whip out notepads. Not that it helped. Otto's speech became, if anything, even more eloquent the drunker he got, but he always ended up straying so far from the point that even he would have to eventually stop, the words “coefficient of restitution” dying on his lips, and admit that he had no idea what he was saying.

That time finally came just as Norman was beginning to nod off.

“I’m sorry,” Otto said, pausing with his glass lifted halfway to his lips. “What was I talking about?”

Norman blinked lazily at him. “No idea.”

“Mm." Otto nodded, not sounding in the least bit offended, and tipped back the rest of his champagne. He picked up the bottle, peered into it, set it back down again. “Damn. We’re out.”

“There should be some left in the reception room.”

“Right. I’ll be back.”

Otto went out into the hall. Norman leaned back in his chair with a sigh and closed his eyes, letting himself enjoy the warm, floaty feeling of his buzz in silence. He had missed these late nights talking with Otto, just the two of them in a the low light of a lab shut down for the night. With all the busyness of opening this new one up, there hadn’t been time.

And, if things went well, they would likely only be busier in the coming weeks. A part of him resented that, just a little.

It occurred to him, not for the first time, that Otto would be a good lay. It had never seemed like a good idea before, but now, well...who could blame him for indulging himself on a night like this?

When Otto returned he found Norman sitting on one of the empty counters, legs spread, leaning back on his hands with a casual air. Otto’s face, already slightly flushed from the champagne, turned redder.

“Er,” he said. “Why are you...”

“Come here.”

After a moment of hesitation in which a dozen conflicting ideas seemed to flash behind his eyes, Otto obeyed, putting the forgotten bottle down on a shelf. Norman took his face in both hands and tilted it up.

“I like your beard,” he said, thoughtfully, stroking it.

Otto snorted. “Thank you, Norman. And the rest of me?”

“I like that, too.”

Otto looked away, biting his lip, nervous.

“You don’t look bad yourself.”

“I know.”

“Ass.”

Norman chuckled. He kissed him. When Otto pulled away, he was breathless, more from surprise than anything else.

“I didn’t know you liked men.”

“I usually don’t, but...” Norman tugged at the lapel of Otto’s suit, pulling him close again. “You’ve got a sort of glow tonight. It looks good on you.”

Otto swallowed. “So, do you want to—”

“Yes.”

That was all it took. Norman slipped off the counter, put his hands on Otto’s shoulders, slid his tongue into his mouth—and Otto just melted in his arms. He moaned as their tongues slid against each other and moaned even more when he felt Norman palm his dick through his slacks.

Norman broke away long enough to say: “Breakroom?”

“Breakroom,” Otto agreed.

They stumbled across the hall, discarded their suit jackets, and fell onto the breakroom couch. Norman pushed Otto down on his back and straddled his waist. Otto put his hands on his hips. He rubbed the bulge in his pants against Otto’s in a slow, teasing circle, and Otto hissed below him. Norman grinned viciously and ground down harder, faster, earning him a whine. He hooked a finger in the belt loop of Otto’s pants and leaned down, lowering his voice.

“How do you like it, Otto?”

“Let me show you.”

They hastily unbuckled their belts and got their dicks out, too impatient to wrestle with any more clothes. Otto took both their cocks in hand and rubbed them together, pumping his fist up and down in rhythm with Norman's rocking hips. Norman’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“That’s...quite good,” he murmured.

Otto’s breath was warm on his face. “You’ve never done this before?”

“Ah—no. Haven’t had enough cocks around me to try anything so exciting.”

In fact, this was only the second time he’d had sex with a man. The first had been a quick, unsatisfying blow job from someone he met at a bar. He had spent the following week paranoid that someone would find out he had slept with a man, and he hadn’t tried since, even when more discreet opportunities came up.

He was much too horny to worry about that now, though.

Below him, Otto shook with laughter. Norman noted with embarrassment that the sound made his dick throb even more than the things he was doing with his hand did. He bucked against him, choking down a groan, and felt a sticky band of precome gather between their dicks. The slippery sensation was incredible. The groan slid past his lips despite his best intentions and his eyes flew open the gauge Otto’s reaction. He looked very pleased with himself. With a quick, business-like gesture he collected the gathered precome in his palm and slathered it over their cocks. When he pumped his fist over them again, it was with an obscene squelch.

The tremor that went through Norman at that nearly made him lose his balance and knock foreheads with him. He caught himself on the edge of the couch and glared at him, his eyes only inches away from Otto's.

“Do you _want_ me to accidentally knock your teeth out?”

“Maybe.”

Norman rolled his eyes and, since he down there anyway, kissed him.

He was very close. He could feel that Otto was too. They panted into each other’s mouths—Otto’s hand shook—Norman added his own to steady him. He thrust against him with reckless abandon. They were fully belly-to-belly now. God, Otto was so soft. God, it felt so good.

Norman came with a smothered moan; Otto, seconds later, followed with a gasp.

They lay where they were for a while, catching their breath, until Otto said:

“You know, you’re heavier than you look.”

“Sorry.”

Norman climbed off of him. They stood up, zipped their slacks, did the best they could to clean up the cum stains with tissues. Thankfully, most of it had ended up on their clothes instead of the couch. Norman wasn’t sure how they would have explained that to the cleaning crew.

They sat back down, and he let Otto rest his head on his shoulder. He waited. Within minutes, Otto was asleep. He carefully laid his head on the arm of the couch and stood above him for a bit, watching him breathe softly, wondering if he should leave a note. He decided against it.

Norman left Oscorp by the back door, and tried to ignore the way that the driver looked him up and down as he hailed a cab.

*

The next morning he woke up, hair disheveled, hungover, the memory of last night hanging over him like an ominous dream.

Yeah. Bad idea. Definitely bad.

With he a groan, he rolled over and didn’t stir again until Otto called around noon. He ignored his phone, got up, drank two cups of coffee, brushed his teeth, slapped some cold water on his cheeks. The next call came a couple hours later.

Best to get this over with.

“Hi, Otto,” he said crisply.

“Hey.” Otto paused, waiting. When it became obvious that Norman wasn’t going to say anything else, he cleared his throat and continued. “So...should we talk about last night?”

“It was fun. What else is there to say about it?”

“I...thought that there was maybe something more to it than that.”

“We were drunk, Otto. I enjoyed fooling around with you, but...”

He let that sentence hang in the air. There was a long silence. When Otto spoke again, his voice was cool.

“I see. Getting tangled up with me would be terrible for business. What _would_ they think of us? You're quite right. Have a nice weekend, Norman.”

“Otto—”

The line went dead. Norman sighed. Of course this had to happen at such an important time for them, when they were busy with so much else...he would just have to let Otto stew, and hope that he would come to see it the way he did.

Really, he told himself, it wasn’t his fault that Otto took things so personally.

*

On Monday, Otto acted like his usual chipper self, and talked of nothing but an idea he had come up with over the weekend.

If he noticed that Norman was keeping farther away from him than usual, if he resented Norman at all, he was too polite to say so.


End file.
